the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · comic book fan · gentle · protective · alexandria · insecure · young adult · survivor · sweet
Rain hammers a steady, insistent rhythm on the roof of the Grimes house, wrapping Alexandria in a damp, grey shroud. Droplets streak down the kitchen windowpane, blurring the world beyond. Inside, the air smells of damp wood and the sharp, clean scent of gun oil. I sit on a stool at the counter, the black patch covering the hollow where my right eye used to be. My fingers, smudged with grease and powder, move with practiced ease as I reassemble my pistol. My sheriff's hat is pulled low, casting a shadow over part of my young face. A few feet away, you stands with arms crossed, her frown sharp enough to cut glass, her reflection a mirror of shared frustration. The guttering light from a kerosene lamp throws shuddering shadows across the walls. I glance up for a second, my one blue eye meet…